


with a thousand sweet kisses

by fruitbattery



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Do Not Archive (The Magnus Archives), Everything's Fine, M/M, extreme cuddling, not in an alex way, post an ideal season 5, spoilers through 160
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-25 16:21:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22459117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fruitbattery/pseuds/fruitbattery
Summary: this is a disgusting piece of unbetaed, unedited rambling fluff. i have nothing to say for myself.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 5
Kudos: 127





	with a thousand sweet kisses

Jon is relaxed, for the first time in probably five years. He’s wearing a tank top, something he _never_ does, and he’s sitting on Martin’s lap when there’s frankly _plenty_ of available couch space. These aren’t things that happen to Jon. There’s something on the small TV, some boring sci-fi something-or-other. Martin’s hands are around Jon’s waist, resting softly in his lap, and he feels warm and cozy and _safe_ like never before.

This show really is boring. Jon wiggles around to plant a kiss on Martin’s cheek. “Hi.”

Martin grins down at him. “Hello! Are you enjoying the show?”

Jon scowls, but he tells the truth. “No. I zoned out twenty minutes ago.” 

Martin laughs, a gentle thing that wraps around Jon’s heart and tugs it a little closer to Martin’s. “Well, zone back in. This scene is one of the best in the series.” Jon grumbles, but settles back down facing the TV. He can feel Martin’s heartbeat on his back, steady and warm, and just for Martin, Jon starts to pay attention to the TV. He’s just gotten the gist of it– an exciting confrontation between a human and her alien friend– when Martin leans down and brushes a kiss on Jon’s shoulder.

“You’re not making it very easy to focus, Martin.”

Martin ‘hm’s a little, and looks down at Jon. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize just how low your threshold for distraction is, _Head Archivist_.” The tone is light, teasing, but the memories associated send a little chill through Jon, and not in the pleasant way that the kiss did– that had been soft, a little electric, a lot vulnerable. This brings up memories of long hours spent hunched painfully over paperwork, or wringing himself dry recording statements, becoming at times so jumpy that he’d snap at any little intrusion….

Martin must notice something’s wrong, because the TV is paused now, and he’s looking at Jon’s face with some concern. “Hey. Hey. Look at me?” Jon obliges, and immediately wants to shrink away again, to hide in that way that was so easy in the Archives. “I’m sorry I brought it up. You never have to go back there again, alright? You can just– sit here, and watch crap TV, and I’m here for you.” 

Jon feels the residual chills and neck cramps of the Archive recede again, and his forehead gently _thunk_ s against Martin’s chest. “Thank you, Martin.” Martin’s t-shirt is cool and slightly rough against Jon’s forehead. Grounding. “I…. hope that that will start happening less.” Jon shakes his head, as if to shake the stilted, formal tone out of his brain. “I’m glad you’re here, and I’m glad to be with you.” 

Martin’s smile is beaming, Jon can feel it as he kisses Jon’s forehead. “Well, I certainly hope you’re happy. ‘Cause you’re stuck with me.” Martin pulls back all of a sudden. “Unless, well, unless you didn’t want to be with me suddenly, because then you’d be well within your rights to leave, and I–” 

Jon doesn’t know where the instinct comes from, but he surges up and kisses Martin on the lips. Martin certainly stops talking, with a squeak in fact, so that’s good. Jon doesn’t like hearing him second-guess himself like that. He’s not sure about the, well, the kissing part, though. It’s blessedly not as _wet_ as he’d been led to believe it was gonna be, and it’s nice, sure, but it’s kinda boring. Something like the show they’d been watching.

Martin is watching carefully when Jon pulls out of the kiss after probably a few seconds too long. “Jon, I get what you were trying to say, but I didn’t get the impression that you particularly enjoyed that.” 

Jon’s head thunks back to Martin’s chest. “No. I tried it because I thought it was what I should do, and then I decided, best not.” 

Martin smiles at Jon, genuinely, and the iron knot in his chest that sort of naturally comes along with vulnerability loosens a little. “Thanks for telling me. That’s really important.” Martin’s arms tighten momentarily. Jon is safe, Jon is loved.

“That thing you did earlier, though, that was nice.”

Martin keeps eye contact this time as he presses his lips to Jon’s shoulder again, deliberate and slow. “You mean this?” Jon nods, eyes darting down towards the couch and cheeks heating a little. He feels Martin pull him back against his chest, and a gentle set of lips against the side of his neck. Jon _shivers_ , and sighs, and closes his eyes, and decided right then and there that he could stay there for a while. Not forever, but a while.

Jon loses track of time as Martin kisses down his arms, the crook of his elbow, a big goofy exaggerated one on his forearm that has both of them laughing even as Jon shivers, an intense chill starting in the lower back and catching him by surprise. Time definitely spins on as Martin kisses the back of his hand like an old-fashioned aristocratic suitor, then brushes across the inside of his wrist. This latter is arguably more romantic, Jon thinks idly, because of how it makes him sigh out loud to feel it. Martin’s lips are so soft, and his hand that’s not in Jon’s is roaming his upper body, skimming up and down his ribcage (purposely avoiding the section that’s missing, he thinks), and running a finger over the shell of Jon’s ear.

Jon likes that, Martin thinks, and so he does it again, and Jon laughs breathlessly. “You’re too good to me, Martin.” He intends it as a quip, but he can tell Martin takes it seriously, because he stops to look Jon in the face again. 

“Jon, what do you mean?”

Martin’s got his Serious Voice on again, and looking back, there’s a little furrow in his brow. Jon wants to smooth it away with his thumb, but instead he says “You….. take care of me, and you do nice things for me, and you’re so selfless about it. Sometimes I feel like I owe you more than I could repay.”

Martin indicates for Jon to turn around and face him properly. “I don’t think we should view anything between us as an exchange, or as something you take or I give. It just _is_. Look, I know we aren’t used to having nice things, Jon, but maybe this time we’re allowed.” Martin’s smile grows a little, but he stays serious. “You, of all people, deserve at least _some_ nice things.”

Jon is reminded of talks with Martin not long after Martin had escaped the Lonely. He recalls a similar state: unable to accept anything being done for him, convinced that he was an imposition and a burden. Jon had gone into the village for a bit of cell service and found an article about positivity and depression, and had Known it in an instant before bringing back to Martin what he’d found. “I found a resource on depression,” he’d said. “I don’t think the medication approach will help you, given the….. _unnatural_ nature of your current mental state, and god knows I’m no therapist, but I found you some exercises.” And so every day, Martin would affirm to himself that he deserved care, love, and kindness. Jon could tell he didn’t believe it at first, but as time wore on, his conviction in the words he was saying grew along with the healthy color in his cheeks. 

So Jon looks up at Martin, and he says, “you’re right.” He’ll believe it someday. “You’re right, and I’m sorry, and wow, I think–” he stops, breathes. “I love you.” He’s said it before, but it hasn’t stopped being exciting, these words he’s allowed to say now. Never mind the fact that saying it makes him feel like he’s lost even more ribs, and this time they were the ones protecting something much more important, something he can’t even name.

Martin’s hand slides up his side, and his forehead comes to rest against Jon’s. “I love you too, Jon. And I’m not going to stop saying that.”

Jon can’t handle eye contact at the moment, and Martin lets it happen as Jon buries his face into Martin’s neck. He still smells like the same shampoo they’d both used at the safehouse, which is honestly more relaxing than Jon might’ve expected. Enamored, Jon presses a kiss to his Adam’s apple, lingering there for a moment to feel Martin’s breath hitch. He does it again, slightly to the side, and Martin’s head flops back onto the couch.

“Jon…..”

Jon smiles against his skin and continues. Martin’s hands come up to his shoulders, scratching light fingernails over his upper back in a way that’s just _really nice_ , and they’re both gasping for air just a little, and it’s new and exciting and perfect. Each small touch, each gasp, is a reminder that he’s safe, that he can _be_ this vulnerable in front of another person. And it’s really nice, yeah, but also Jon doesn’t think his knees would work if he tried to stand. 

So.

He’s also really enjoying getting reactions out of Martin. Currently, one hand on his waist, thumb rubbing little circles, and one hand in his, and lips on his collarbone, seems to have him melted right into the couch. Jon pulls back a moment to stare at Martin, Martin with his hair mussed, Martin with his eyes closed and breathing heavily, and decides that he likes this. He wants to make this happen more often. It’s at the edge of _something_ that he’s not sure he’s ready to think about, but for now, it works.


End file.
